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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042276">Slippery Slope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/slamncram/pseuds/slamncram'>slamncram</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Friends With Benefits, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Guilt, Hiking, M/M, Mud, Pre-Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Season/Series 01, Sharing a Shower, Showers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:42:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/slamncram/pseuds/slamncram</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What started out as Tim's idea of a bonding hike for the somewhat fresh, but definitely stressed, Archival squad ends up with just himself and, as unlikely as it seems, Jon. Rather than turn back at the trailhead, they go ahead. Laughter, mud, showers (and just a little bit of guilt on Tim's side) follow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Slippery Slope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, Tim supposed that he should have known better.</p>
<p>Proposing this sort of thing always went over well with the friends he had outside of the Institute. Propose a Saturday afternoon hike to the group chat and, without fail, most of them would be on board and suggesting locations.</p>
<p>Not so much with the friends Tim had made at the Magnus Institute.</p>
<p>Though, really, that statement wasn’t fair to the friends he had from Research. While the bulk of them were still the type to balk at the idea, there were enough of them that Tim knew would rise to the challenge of a moderate hike versus tracking down a potentially possessed person of interest to save a case from going to the Archives too soon.</p>
<p>No. Really, it came down to the fact that the Archival team was a beast unlike any Tim had known before. He knew that, and he was working on it. Maybe that could be used to explain away why he’d proposed this in the first place.</p>
<p>An afternoon hike. Nothing strenuous, just a chance for the four of them to get out of the basement, away from the tape recorders, and into fresh air. They needed it, in his opinion. Martin had taken to living in the Archives. Jon was a tightly wound alarm clock, just waiting for an excuse to go off. And Sasha was still digging to try and understand the <em>thing</em> that had approached her in the coffeeshop.</p>
<p>They needed some time to be together without all the stress they’d had lately. Sure, Tim reasoned it was likely to end soon and they would all go back to the regular schedule of researching old dead-end statements.</p>
<p>But didn’t they deserve a little group time before that?</p>
<p>That had been Tim’s reasoning and he hadn’t thought it was anything but sound.</p>
<p>Then his coworkers had proved him wrong.</p>
<p>In the group chat, they had all agreed. Even Jon. Tim had expected that he would be the hold-out, and that he’d need the support of both Sasha and Martin to convince him to come along. Jon being ‘the boss’ seemed to translate, in the mind of Jonathan Sims, to meaning that he needed to turn down any and all social events with his team. When that hadn’t been the case this time, and everyone had agreed, no problem, the week before, Tim should have <em>known</em> something was about to go wrong.</p>
<p>Sasha had been the first to bow out. She’d been surprised by a cousin coming to town who wanted to catch up and have Sasha show her around. She was really sorry, Sasha had said in her private message, but she was going to have to cancel on the Saturday hike.</p>
<p>It wasn’t great, but Tim had been ready to go ahead with it. Archive Guys Hike, he’d called it, and by 10PM on Friday, it had still been a go.</p>
<p>By 10:02, it was a different story.</p>
<p>Martin had a lot of claims for why he was cancelling. The first was that he needed to go and help his mum with something. Then, when Tim had offered that he and Jon could wait until Martin was free, it had become that, actually, Martin wasn’t feeling well.</p>
<p>That could be it, of course, but Tim had seen Martin just a few hours before and he’d seemed <em>fine</em> then.</p>
<p>More than likely, it came down to Jon. Jon, and Martin not wanting Jon to think he was even more of an idiot than Jon already seemed to think. Martin <em>could</em> be a bit clumsy but in Tim’s opinion, not wanting Jon to see him stumbling on a trail was just pointless.</p>
<p>It was <em>Jon</em>.</p>
<p>On a <em>trail</em>.</p>
<p>Somehow, Tim suspected Martin wouldn’t be the only one struggling to keep up with <em>his</em> pace.</p>
<p>There was nothing for it, though. Martin was already cagey about his crush on the boss – at least, after some investigative work, Tim suspected Jon was the object of Martin’s affections – it wouldn’t help to put him on the spot like that. Martin was trying to get out of it gracefully. The least Tim could do was let him.</p>
<p>And so, that was what had led to Saturday afternoon, and Tim standing at the top of the trail, off to the side of the car park, waiting for Jon.</p>
<p>And only Jon.</p>
<p>Of all the unlikely outcomes, he hadn’t expected this one. They could plan to go for drinks on a Friday and everyone but Jon would show up.</p>
<p>Plan to go for a short, not at all demanding hike? Everyone but Jon would bail.</p>
<p>It didn’t make sense, but what did, anymore?</p>
<p>Besides, it wasn’t like this would be the first time Tim and Jon had done something just the two of them. They’d been friends for a few years now.</p>
<p>And closer than that a handful of times.</p>
<p>Of course, Tim had forgotten to tell Jon, after Martin bailed, that it was just going to be the two of them.</p>
<p>He’d forgotten right up until be saw Jon coming, walking up the drive from the street.</p>
<p>Then he realized he <em>really</em> should have tried harder to get Martin to come. He, ironically in his own eyes perhaps, wouldn’t be the one making an ass of themself today.</p>
<p>“Where’s Martin?” Jon asked, reaching earshot of Tim. “Not late, is he? I thought the two of you planned to carpool.”</p>
<p>“He cancelled last minute.” Tim answered, brief, waving it off. “<em>What</em> are you wearing?”</p>
<p>Jon had clearly been partway through opening his mouth to ask more about Martin, but stopped at Tim’s question. He frowned, glancing down like perhaps they were seeing different things.</p>
<p>“Just some old clothes. Thought it better than my good work clothes.” His tone turned defensive as he continued. “And I see you’re not in yours either, so – ”</p>
<p>“ - You’re wearing<em> jeans</em>!”</p>
<p>Jon paused.</p>
<p>“Yes. They’re old, so I don’t mind scuffing them up.”</p>
<p>“On a <em>hike</em>.” Tim said. “Jeans. On a hike, Jon.”</p>
<p>Now the defensiveness was obvious, not just in Jon’s tone but in his eyes, the set of his mouth and the way the tips of his ears were turning red.</p>
<p>“I hardly think it’s going to be <em>that</em> strenuous, if you invited <em>me</em>.”</p>
<p>Tim grinned, gesturing down at himself. “Sure, but even <em>I’m</em> wearing sweats.”</p>
<p>Jon made a sound reminiscent of a frog being stepped on, and then pushed past Tim, heading off down the trail.</p>
<p>“Let’s just do what we came here to do!”</p>
<p>Laughing, Tim followed him down the path at a jog until he could walk easily at his side. Jon looked over, and after a second’s pause, he sighed and shook his head.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand why you’re so pleased.”</p>
<p>“What’s not to be pleased about?” Tim asked, gesturing around them. “We’re outside, on a beautiful day, and you’re hiking in jeans.”</p>
<p>Jon scowled. “Tim. Stop with the jeans.”</p>
<p>“I just... did you think about it, when you put them on?”</p>
<p>“Drop it.”</p>
<p>Tim did, after another laugh, one that even Jon joined in at the end of. If it was going to be just the two of them, there was no sense in antagonizing Jon this early. If the other two ever agreed to this again, Jon would bow out based on Tim being more of an ass than was strictly necessary on <em>this</em> trip.</p>
<p>Besides, for the most part, Jon’s choice of clothing didn’t actually seem to be backfiring on him too badly. The trail was rather moderate – on purpose – and even if the temperature once they’d gone the first mile had risen, he didn’t seem to be suffering with sweaty denim. The trail, for it being a Saturday, wasn’t even that busy, minus a few groups here and there.</p>
<p>They had just passed an older couple when Jon said, just shy of smugly, “that man was wearing jeans.”</p>
<p>Tim paused, glancing back and trying to make it look like he <em>wasn’t</em> eyeing the fashion choices of their fellow trailwalkers.</p>
<p>“Well... Yeah! But, not to be rude, look at them! They’re probably just walking around the pond and then back to the car.” He looked back at Jon, who was smiling, serene, and oh-so-smug. “<em>And</em> he’s like, 75, Jon. He can do whatever he likes. You being <em>mentally</em> 75 does not give you the same excuse.”</p>
<p>Jon had started sputtering before Tim had even finished speaking.</p>
<p>“Just because I’m mature – ”</p>
<p>“ - Borderline geriatric sometimes, I think. Or would, if I didn’t know better.”</p>
<p>Jon pressed his lips together, clearly trying to word his next response carefully.</p>
<p>What ended up coming out was a bitter, snappish, “shut up, Tim.”</p>
<p>Tim laughed, loud enough for it to echo in the forest around them. Up ahead of them, a few members of another group glanced back in question. For his part, Jon shoved him, hand on his shoulder, sending him stumbling sideways just slightly.</p>
<p>“Oh, I wish Martin had told me he wasn’t coming. Then I would have cancelled, too, and not been stuck alone with you.”</p>
<p>Tim gasped, mocking offence and making sure to give Jon an injured look.</p>
<p>“Words <em>hurt</em>, boss.”</p>
<p>Jon blew out a disbelieving breath. “I sincerely doubt you’re <em>that</em> hurt, actually.”</p>
<p>“Shows what you know,” Tim said, faking a dramatic but quiet sob. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think Jon was actually making him cry. “I won’t be over this any time soon.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll be over it within in the next five minutes, actually.”</p>
<p>Jon was, unsurprisingly, correct. Within five minutes, Tim had both forgotten about his faux-hurt feelings and moved on to other topics of conversation. If Jon was struggling to keep up their mildly brisk pace while still chatting, he didn’t seem keen to share it. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but Tim had expected more of a complaint.</p>
<p>Then again, Jon was something of a speedwalker just on the regular London streets. This really wasn’t much different.</p>
<p>Everything was going well, all things considered. Even though the other two had cancelled, the afternoon had turned out to be a good one. It had been a long time since he and Jon had spent this sort of time together, just the two of them. Since the very early days of having moved to the Archives, for sure. Tim felt like he, at least, had spent a good portion of the hike laughing.</p>
<p>He didn’t guess, as they approached the final steep hill before the trail finished looping back to the car park, that the laughing wasn’t quite over yet. At least, he didn’t and couldn’t have guessed the reason.</p>
<p>“I guess it did rain a lot last night, didn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Mm,” Tim hummed, looking at the path ahead of them.</p>
<p>There had been parts of the trail that had looked like this, but since they’d been relatively flat, it hadn’t been as much of an issue. What they were looking at now was a whole swath of trail that looked more like churned up mud than a proper path, deep grooves full of dirty water, little mud walls rising up where people had put their boots down, and slick patches where those same boots had lost their grip. And on either side, the trail was bordered by equally muddy grass, just as perilous to choose as a way down, right now. Possibly more.</p>
<p>Which left them with little choice.</p>
<p>“Better make sure your trainers are laced up tight.”</p>
<p>“Uh...” Jon paused, but when Tim glanced over, he forged ahead. “All right.”</p>
<p>They moved forward cautiously, Tim sidestepping his way down the steep, muddy hill to try for more stability. Jon followed behind for a few paces, and after his third, stopped, arms pinwheeling for balance as his back foot slid forward an inch before stopping. Tim had already put a hand out and kept it there as their eyes met.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you take this?” Tim asked, flexing his fingers slightly. “Help with balance for us both.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Jon agreed with a nod, taking Tim’s hand. “Probably a bad time to tell you these trainers are probably about as old as the jeans.”</p>
<p>Tim looked down at them, already streaked with mud. “They don’t have any tread left, do they?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, they might have <em>some</em>.”</p>
<p>Tim looked up at Jon, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“We need to work on your idea of hiking attire, boss.”</p>
<p>Jon sighed. “Yes, I know. But, perhaps we can do that <em>after</em> this?”</p>
<p>Tim agreed, squeezing Jon’s hand briefly, and then started picking out his steps again. It was like that, hand in hand, that they continued downwards, Tim leading the way, choosing the placement of his steps carefully. Jon followed at a steady pace, his hand sure in Tim’s.</p>
<p>They’d nearly reached the bottom when disaster struck.</p>
<p>Tim <em>felt</em> Jon slipping in the tight, panicked grip of his hand. His feet went right out from under him and Tim <em>knew</em> better than to think he could stand him back up by tightening the grip on his hand and yanking upwards, but he still tried.</p>
<p>That was a mistake, and he knew it the second he overbalanced and went down himself, following Jon down the slick slope and right into the muddy puddle at the bottom.</p>
<p>For a second they both simply sat there, stunned, mud caked on their clothes, shoes, arms and, at least in Tim’s case, as far up his actual <em>legs</em> as his sweats had allowed. It was a supremely uncomfortable position.</p>
<p>And a rather embarrassing one. The two of them, grown men, just <em>sitting</em> in a mud puddle they’d clearly slipped into.</p>
<p>Then Jon spoke up.</p>
<p>“Well. I’m certainly glad Sasha wasn’t here to witness that.”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>Christ</em>.” Tim said, smiling and, finally, moving to stand. He offered a filthy hand to Jon who took it in an equally filthy one and let Tim help hoisting him to his feet. “She’d never let us hear the end of it.”</p>
<p>“Speaking of ends,” Jon said, pointing. “That the end of the trail, then?”</p>
<p>Tim followed where he was pointing and huffed a laugh when he caught sight of the car park through the gap in the trees. “Yeah. That’s what that would be.”</p>
<p>Jon sighed. “Of course. Would be our luck.”</p>
<p>Tim patted his shoulder and nodded in that direction. “Come on. You can come back to mine, wash up. We can even order in. Get something to soothe our bruised egos.”</p>
<p>Jon followed, but that didn’t stop him from protesting. “I wouldn’t want to impose, Tim. I’ll take the ride but you can just drop me off at my flat. I don’t want to take up your shower and fill it with mud.”</p>
<p>Tim glanced back at Jon, trying to get a read. Was this Jon looking to get what he actually wanted, or was this Jon trying not to be a burden, even if he’d <em>like</em> to go along with Tim’s proposition? Over the years of knowing Jon, especially once he’d gently bullied him into friendship, he’d started to be able to tell the difference.</p>
<p>Jon never wanted to be a burden. He didn’t want to bother people, and he certainly didn’t like letting people too close. Since moving to the Archives, Tim felt like the other had doubled down on that especially.</p>
<p>Tim wasn’t having any of it. He’d worked too hard in Research to make a friend of Jon. He could read him now. He wasn’t giving him an inch.</p>
<p>“You think <em>I’m</em> going to get in and somehow <em>not</em> fill my shower with dirt? Come off it, Jon. I <em>know</em> you want to come over.” One glance at the other confirmed Tim had guessed right. Jon had been trying to get out of it not to be a burden.</p>
<p>“Besides, if you’re so worried about it, we can share a shower, and get it all out of the way at once.” Unlocking his car with the fob, he made sure to look over at Jon with an exaggerated, rakish grin so he would know he was joking. Jon, for his part, was rolling his eyes with a little smile.</p>
<p>“Fine. But I get to pick where we order from.”</p>
<p>“Done,” Tim agreed. “One second.”</p>
<p>He ran around to the boot of his car, digging in the detritus of an outdoor lifestyle inside before he came up with two old beach towels. He gave them both a perfunctory shake to dislodge any lingering sand and then handed one to Jon.</p>
<p>“Put that on the seat, would you?” He moved to his side and did the same, sitting down a second after Jon and immediately understanding why Jon’s expression looked the way it did.</p>
<p>“That’s a rather uncomfortable feeling, isn’t it?” he asked, cheerily, starting the car and trying not to pay too much attention to the feeling of sitting in dirty water in his own pants. “Didn’t realize it was nearly everywhere! Bet you’re glad you didn’t walk back to the train. Still wanting to refuse my shower?”</p>
<p>“Tim.” Jon said, holding himself stiffly. “Please drive.”</p>
<p>“Don’t need to tell me twice, boss.”</p>
<p>The drive back to London wasn’t exactly a short one but, eventually, they were pulling up to Tim’s flat and carting their muddy selves and the muddy towels inside and straight to his washing machine.</p>
<p>“Just toss it all in.” Tim said, demonstrating by balling the towels up and throwing them in before reaching back to pull his shirt up over his head to do the same with it. “You can have first shower. You know where the clean towels are.”</p>
<p>Jon nodded, undoing the button on the ridiculous jeans he’d chosen to hike in. He looked distracted, and Tim was about to ask if he was okay when Jon spoke over him.</p>
<p>“Did you still want to share?”</p>
<p>Tim paused, balanced on one foot, in the middle of pulling the muddy sock off the other. “You... know I was joking, right? You don’t have to if you don’t want – ”</p>
<p>“ – Tim, I’m asking because I think... I think it would be nice.” Jon looked just a little embarrassed. Just enough to make it so he wasn’t making eye contact, shoving his jeans down while red crept up the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“Oh, then,<em> hell</em> yeah.” Tim answered, tossing his once-white socks into the washing machine and then, in one fluid motion, he pushed both his sweats and pants down, stepping out of them. They joined the rest of his clothes in the machine and he turned to go start the shower.</p>
<p>“You got that, right?”</p>
<p>“I know how to operate a washing machine, Tim!”</p>
<p>“Just checking!” Tim called back. “Don’t take too long, Jon! I’ll use up all the hot water if you do.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t even a full minute later when Jon was stepping into the bathroom, just as naked as Tim, and clearly trying not to be aware of it in the wake of the knowledge he <em>had</em> to impart.</p>
<p>“You know that’s not really something you could manage, given the year your flat was constructed?”</p>
<p>“Stop,” Tim said, voice elevated to be heard over the running shower. “No sexy talk about hot water, dirty boy. Just get in there.”</p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous,” Jon pointed out, stepping into the shower.</p>
<p>“Yeah. You like it, though, or we wouldn’t be here right now.”</p>
<p>That was true.</p>
<p>Jon was many things, but the type of person to share a shower with just any friend, he was not. It had been a long time before Tim had even gotten so much as a kiss on the cheek from him. Sharing a shower? That had come after a night of sleeping side by side, doing no more than trading kisses.</p>
<p>And Tim wouldn’t expect anything more. Jon wasn’t a sexual being, and he tended to shy away from things that could be intimate in a way that led to that. Not always, Tim remembered happily, but he rarely pursued things that far for himself. Tim respected that, never pushed. Jon’s comfort level was paramount to him. No matter the state of their friends with benefits relationship, he wouldn’t ever push those benefits to be more than Jon wanted or felt up to.</p>
<p>And Jon wouldn’t have stood for being pushed, anyway, so when Tim said that he knew they wouldn’t be here if Jon wasn’t feeling it, he meant that.</p>
<p>But he was here, now, watching while Jon pushed water through his dark hair, eyes closed. He was getting more grey, the silver streaks at his temples more pronounced than they’d been in the past, especially obvious now that his hair was wet. Premature grey looked good on him. Tim had told him that before, and if he could be heard over the water right now, he would have told him again.</p>
<p>The mud and dirt was sluicing away, off Jon’spale brownskin and down the drain when he turned to move and give Tim access to the showerhead, long fingers working shampoo – <em>Tim’s</em> shampoo – into his hair. Tim brushed a hand against his side as they passed, then tipped his head back, eyes closed, under the water. Once he’d wet his own hair enough, they did the dance again, Jon rinsing his hair and Tim lathering his own.</p>
<p>Though it was unspoken, it felt warmly familiar to Tim. Domestic in a way their unspoken relationship just tended to be when they were alone outside the Institute.</p>
<p>Switch again, Jon flicking open the cap of Tim’s body wash while Tim rinsed his hair. Tim had a split second to see Jon to make a face at the decidedly <em>marketing-manly</em> smell of the body wash before water flowed over his head and he needed to close his eyes to keep shampoo from them.</p>
<p>He was about to ask for Jon to pass the body wash when he felt Jon’s hand on his chest and opened his eyes.</p>
<p>Making a friend of Jon hadn’t had an ulterior motive that would have ended up leading them here. When Tim had made it a project, it had simply been because he saw how standoffish Jon was and, still in grief over what had happened to Danny, Jon had seemed safe. And distracting. It would be hard to linger over Danny’s death every moment if his few free ones at the Magnus Institute were spent trying to make a friend of the grouchy workaholic in his department.</p>
<p>It was only once they’d really gotten to start to know each other and Jon stopped doing a spot-on impression of a brick wall that Tim started to realize he was in a kind of danger.</p>
<p>He’d set a goal to get a smile from Jon. A real one, not one he put on to be diplomatic.</p>
<p>The first time he did, that danger had truly been realized.</p>
<p>Jon was, really, an attractive man, in a very specific way that he seemed to hide behind the too-old jackets and stuffy attitude. Once Tim had seen it, it was hard <em>not</em> to keep seeing it.</p>
<p>Right now, with Jon, hair wet, skin wet, standing in front of him, Tim was seeing it clearly.</p>
<p>More importantly, he could tell from the way Jon was watching him, pressing the body wash into Tim’s hand with the one not on his chest, Jon himself <em>knew</em> what Tim was seeing. It was rare, those moments, and it was making Tim feel a little like this was a moment apart from everything else.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Tim said, nowhere near loud enough to be heard over the spray of the water, but Jon seemed to understand anyway. They switched again so Jon could rinse the soap from his skin, and Tim willed the steam to stop making him fuzzy-headed, rubbing down his skin, scrubbing away the last of the dirt.</p>
<p>Switch again.</p>
<p>Tim was beginning to think the moment had passed. Had there even been one? Had that all been his wishful thinking, because as much as he hadn’t meant the shower to be indicative of anything else, maybe it was, a little, in his subconscious?</p>
<p>Then Jon stepped up behind him, his hands sliding around Tim’s sides, and Tim thought otherwise. A thrill went through him at the feeling of Jon’s lips against his shoulder-blade and he turned, slowly, looking Jon over.</p>
<p>Speaking was out of the question. He didn’t think Jon would hear him over the shower, and somehow raising his voice felt like it would kill the mood.</p>
<p>So, instead, he did the next best thing and kissed Jon.</p>
<p>It was soft, gentle, wet lips on wet lips, but it was wonderful. Even more when Jon parted his lips and wrapped his arms around around Tim, skin to skin under the water.</p>
<p>Tim wasn’t sure how long they stood there, kissing slow like the bathroom wasn’t filling with steam around them. Eventually, though, they broke apart, just enough to breathe. Tim could feel the warmth of the shower and his own temperature oppressively, heartbeat tripping. He blew out a breath and Jon laughed, perhaps understanding exactly what Tim was feeling. Tim was thankful when he reached past him to turn the water off.</p>
<p>“Got a bit hot in here,” he said, and Tim grinned.</p>
<p>“Oh, a little.”</p>
<p>Following Jon out of the shower, he wrapped up in a towel and opened the bathroom door, letting a rush of steam out and a gust of cool air in.</p>
<p>“So, dinner?” Tim asked, turning back to Jon, goosebumps rising on his damp skin.</p>
<p>Jon nodded, pulling the towel away from his hair to look over Tim’s way.</p>
<p>“Would it be all right if I stayed over tonight?”</p>
<p>That wasn’t a promise. Jon asking that after making out in the shower wasn’t a guarantee of anything more than more of those kisses. It could mean just the simple sweet intimacy of curling up together in Tim’s bed. It could mean Jon was in a place where he wouldn’t shy away from sex, if he wanted it. Either option was enough to keep Tim’s heartbeat tripping.</p>
<p>Abruptly, though, he felt the guilt of the knowledge of what he suspected to be Martin’s feelings. He cared about him. He wouldn’t want Martin to hurt.</p>
<p>At the same time, when he looked at Jon, it was hard to deny his own feelings. It was hard to be selfless, to give up what <em>he</em> wanted himself, when Jon was here, and relaxed, and looking at him like that.</p>
<p>Looking at him like he <em>knew</em> how beautiful he was, and how attached to him Tim was. Like he was just as attached to Tim in return.</p>
<p>Maybe Tim was weak.</p>
<p>Maybe he was a bad person.</p>
<p>Maybe he was simply human.</p>
<p>In any case, he smiled and answered.</p>
<p>“Of course. Thought you’d never ask.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
<p>If you'd like to come yell at/with me about The Magnus Archives and other nonsense, you can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/slamncram%22">Twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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